


Midnight Ride

by lettersinpetals



Series: Sakusa Kiyoomi's Sexual Awakening [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consent is Sexy, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, but there is consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/pseuds/lettersinpetals
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi bought a vibrator, which was all well and good, but he probably shouldn’t have tried it while the team was on a bus ride back to Osaka. They were all asleep anyway — or so he thought.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Sakusa Kiyoomi's Sexual Awakening [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193258
Comments: 23
Kudos: 687
Collections: Bottomi Week 2021





	Midnight Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for Bottomi Week 2021 Day 4: Solo Play + “I might let you have it...if you can convince me”
> 
> I'll probably continue this series...one day

He didn’t think this through.

Already, that was unlike him. Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn’t impulsive. He was cautious, meticulous, almost procedural in every aspect of his life. Emotions weren’t what got him to where he was today — a professional volleyball player with a sports medicine degree under his belt — discipline and a good grasp on rationality did.

But at that moment, Sakusa Kiyoomi was horny.

He had been poking around in the internet in curiosity, driven by his unnaturally high sex drive, and to his shame, rubbed one off while watching a blonde man eat out a twink until he was crying.

 _I want that_ , he thought, a strange hunger taking hold of him.

No amount of slapping himself in the face shook off the lust, despite already having gotten off. He had no idea what was up with himself lately, but he’d been finding himself hot and bothered more often, which was _weird_ — he’d never thought of himself as a very sexual person.

Hell, he was a virgin, and by choice at that. He had politely, and not so politely, turned down a handful of offers for a hookup throughout his college years, because why would he allow some stranger to touch him, much less fuck him? Gross. To this day, he’d been content in the occasional masturbation session, getting himself off and going about his day.

But apparently, his body had decided that he was just a late bloomer. Was twenty-two too late for a sexual awakening?

Finding himself immensely unsatisfied, Kiyoomi delved into the internet once again. One night stands with strangers were a no-no, so he had decided that he had to take care of things himself.

Staring at the website that specialized in adult toys, Kiyoomi chewed his bottom lip, wrestling with himself. It just seemed a little much — surely he had no use for these? But then he realized there couldn’t possibly be any downside to this. In fact, he would benefit from it — he’d get to know his own body, level up his experimentations, and hopefully, _finally_ quench his thirst, because he’d been getting distracted lately.

Besides, he was an adult now who hadn't lived with his parents in four years; he was earning money for himself, even owned a credit card that was under his own name.

No one would find out.

He checked out his cart.

\--

“Hey, Omi-kun!” A heavy arm landed around his shoulder, jostling him.

Kiyoomi scowled in irritation. “Get off, Miya. And I told you not to call me that.”

Miya Atsumu followed neither of his demands. He grinned at Kiyoomi, squeezing him closer. “Always so grumpy, Omi-Omi! Anyway, we’re going out for drinks tonight. Come with us?”

“I can’t,” he said, remembering that a package was waiting for him in his room, having arrived this morning. A jolt of excitement shot through him, realizing the team would be out. Perfect. “I have a video call with my family. We’re going to, um, catch up and all.”

“Aw, man.” Atsumu looked genuinely put off. “Fine, but next time, alright?”

Before Kiyoomi could shoot him down again, Atsumu was jogging off, presumably towards Bokuto.

Waiting for the team to finish getting ready and finally leave the sharehouse was unbearable. The suspense had him tensing in anticipation and impatience, his breathing getting heavier, his palms getting sweatier.

When he heard the front door slam shut, he dived under his covers without a stitch of clothing on.

His hands shook as he settled his laptop on his chest and picked up the bottle of lube he’d just bought. Keeping an eye on the gay porn playing on his screen, he poured some of the product on his hand and stroked himself into full hardness.

When the man in the video started fingering his partner, Kiyoomi spread his legs and trailed a hand down. He touched his hole curiously, shivering at the sensation, and dipped a finger in.

Call him a prude, but he’d only ever done this twice, and both times left him wondering what the fuss was about. With how he’d been feeling lately though, he thought it was worth giving it another shot. Maybe he’d enjoy it this time around.

After smearing more lube on his fingers and stuffing a pillow under his ass, he curiously slid his middle finger inside. He kept watching the video, fucking himself shallowly with his finger, bravely inserting another one.

He tired himself out before he could get anywhere close to an orgasm. Giving up, he gripped his cock and pumped it until he was spilling all over his stomach.

Despite the unsatisfying finish, he wasn’t about to throw in the towel. After all, he still had toys to try — that was the point of all his purchases, wasn’t it? He was going to figure out what made his body tick no matter what it took. Once he got his courage, that is.

Eyeing the porn video once more, he couldn’t help but think, _I wonder what it would feel like with someone else._

\--

Unfortunately, the MSBY Black Jackals’ next match was in Tokyo. It was quite a ride away — eight hours to be exact — so they left early the next morning to make it to their match late in the afternoon.

Kiyoomi didn’t know what went wrong in his head that made him think it was a good idea to pack one of the toys he’d purchased. When did he think he’d be able to use it? They were leaving Tokyo the very same day.

But his brain had been malfunctioning a lot lately, distracted by his own raging hormones. It was a miracle he could still play as he did, but that was because everything else disappeared the moment he was on the court. That at least, hadn’t changed.

Outside of it though, he felt like a goddamn teenager. Something had to be done. And he thought he was ready to try out some of his new toys.

They won the game.

High on their victory, the team had begged their coach, Samson Foster, to let them stay a few hours in the city for a night out with their Tokyo-based volleyball friends. With a sigh, Foster acquiesced.

Later, Kiyoomi would blame the alcohol.

He was drunk — that was the only reason he did what he did.

It was rather late when the team stumbled back into the bus and slumped down on their respective seats. As always, Kiyoomi had taken the one at the very back and splayed his belongings beside him to discourage his teammates from sitting there. Having known him for months now, they respectfully stayed away. They all sat apart from each other, claiming a window seat of their own.

Before long, they were all passed out, even Foster, who’d had several drinks with the other team’s coach.

The buzzing in Kiyoomi’s bloodstream kept him awake and staring wide-eyed at the dark, empty highway.

He checked the time — it was midnight. They were two hours into the journey back home with six more to go, and he would like to sleep but his body wasn’t exhausted.

And he knew one sure solution for that.

Heartbeat quickening, Kiyoomi licked his lips and quietly slipped his hand into his bag. He pulled out the bottle of lube and the toy he’d packed.

It was a prostate vibrator.

He’d been too intimidated to even touch it before, but he was brave tonight. Pulling the blanket he’d packed over his lap, he thumbed down his sweatpants until it pooled around his ankles. He lifted a leg and started getting himself ready.

Something about the risky situation had him feeling hornier than usual, and his dick was throbbing in no time. He screwed two lubed up fingers into his hole, inhaling a breath at the pressure.

Then he picked up the vibrator beside him and started to slowly work it in. The thing had a nice long length which curled up at the tip, while its base was curved to rest against his balls. It wasn’t very thick, which was a good thing because he’d never have the nerve to try it otherwise, but it boasted of eight different massage patterns. Kiyoomi would cross that bridge later — just getting it in was a struggle.

He was sweaty and panting by the time he took it all the way in, and he sat rigidly in his seat as it did as it promised — the tip was pressing insistently on a spot that turned his stomach into a pool of heat.

For a few long moments, he was too overwhelmed to move. Taking deep breaths, he tried to pull himself together.

When he was calmer, he gingerly repositioned himself on his seat, tucking the blanket higher over himself.

Then he picked up the remote and pressed a button.

Nothing could have prepared him for the wave of pleasure that shook his body. In his panic, he jabbed the power button again, stopping the vibrations.

But he was apparently unable to help himself, so he pressed the button again. More prepared for it this time, Kiyoomi sank down on his seat and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Fuck. That felt good.

The bulbous head of the vibrator was shivering inside him, grinding against _that spot_ , and the base was tickling his perineum. It was almost too much. But a hunger was taking over him — he wanted _more_.

When he pressed another button and the vibration pattern changed, his body jolted.

It didn’t just feel good, it felt _amazing_.

He could get behind this.

Not wanting to spoil everything too soon, Kiyoomi spent the next fifteen minutes trying out the different massage modes, gripping his seat when it got too much and turning the device off whenever he got overwhelmed.

Just when he thought he was ready to orgasm, the bus hit a rough road, and panicking at the surge of pleasure, Kiyoomi turned off the vibrator.

But the bus seemed to have hit a pothole, which had Kiyoomi careening forwards — and dropping the remote.

He watched in horror as the round black object slid up the aisle and he prayed to all the gods that everyone was still asleep. A few seconds passed and nobody moved. Thinking he was safe, he wormed himself out of his corner, wrapped himself up in his blanket, and stuck a leg out.

And then an arm reached down and picked up the remote.

Even in the dim moonlight, Kiyoomi could tell that the person leaning down had bleached platinum blonde hair.

Of course it had to be Miya fucking Atsumu.

Atsumu studied the remote for a few seconds before realization must have struck him — he whipped his head back and met Kiyoomi’s gaze.

They spent what felt like an eternity just staring at each other. Kiyoomi’s emotions were tangled up inside him — he was horrified, embarrassed, guilty, defensive, annoyed — but most of all horny. He was so _close_ , damn it.

He refused to move. Atsumu refused to look away.

And then, without breaking the stare off, Atsumu thumbed a button.

The effect was instantaneous. Kiyoomi’s body jerked and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the moan that slipped out. In his mortification, he squirreled himself back in his corner, pulling up his blanket as if it could shield him from the reality of what was happening.

 _What have I done?_ he thought frantically as his body fought the pleasure building up in him. He really didn’t think this through.

And then the vibration pattern changed and his eyes rolled back up in his head. He gritted his teeth against the assault and the anger — _that stupid idiot dare play with me?_

The answer was yes. Yes, he dared. Because the pattern started switching around too quickly, and this time, Kiyoomi had no power to stop it. Atsumu was probably randomly pressing the buttons because he was a dimwit who was too curious for his own good.

And then, everything stopped.

Kiyoomi opened his eyes and stared blindly at the bus ceiling, panting. His cock was aching and throbbing. Just as he was reaching for it to finish the job, a tall figure loomed over him.

Atsumu smirked smugly down at him and Kiyoomi had never wanted to punch someone so badly before.

“Give it back,” he whispered dangerously. “I swear, Miya…”

“I might let you have it...if you can convince me.” Atsumu’s smirk widened.

Kiyoomi stared at him, stunned. “You fucker—” The rest of the words were lost in his moans, as the vibrations picked up again.

A heady warmth nearby let him know that Atsumu sat down beside him. “Now, now. Behave, Omi-kun, or I won’t let you get off.” As if to prove his words, he turned the device off.

“Fuck you,” Kiyoomo spat out venomously.

“Sure, if you ask nicely. Would you beg for it?”

He _loathed_ this guy. How dare he think he had any entitlement to Kiyoomi’s body? In righteous defiance, Kiyoomi shoved a hand down between his legs, but before he could reach his dick, a warm hand was gripping his wrist.

“Omi,” Atsumu whispered right in his ear. “Let me. It will be good, I promise.”

The breath that blew on his skin allowed clarity to trickle back in. His heart rate was slowing down, breathing normalizing, vision clearing. He took several deep breaths, thinking.

Atsumu had already caught him. He had already seen Kiyoomi writhing in pleasure. He was _here_ , very warm, very willing, and very knowledgeable — it was common knowledge that he had a long-term boyfriend before and after calling it quits took to blowing off steam by fucking strangers in clubs — and very handsome. Kiyoomi hated him for that.

He hated that Atsumu’s face followed him into his dreams.

His very _wet_ dreams.

Who was he kidding? He knew exactly what the reason for his elevated sex drive was. Or rather, _who_. Atsumu used to be a scrawny little loser that Kiyoomi had only known distantly due to volleyball, but he had the gall to saunter back into his life looking like a damn model. He _was_ a model. And a damn good athlete.

Kiyoomi didn’t know he had a type, until he laid eyes on Miya Atsumu a few months ago and suddenly his body was alive.

“Omi?” Atsumu whispered. Asking for permission.

For some reason, that sealed the deal. “Make it good, Miya.”

Atsumu’s voice turned deep. “Oh, I will.”

He turned the device back on.

Kiyoomi let his head fall back against the backrest. His wrist was still restrained by Atsumu’s hand, but he knew he could break out of that easily. But he didn’t want to.

The minutes that followed were unbearable. Atsumu was merciless, pressing buttons as he pleased, watching Kiyoomi’s body jolt and shudder in time to the vibrator’s rhythm.

But every time Kiyoomi thought he was about to reach his peak, Atsumu would turn the vibrator off.

Kiyoomi knew what Atsumu wanted — he wanted him to beg for it. So he tried to fight it. The next time Atsumu turned the vibrator on, he consciously relaxed his body, but all that did was make sure he felt the pleasure down to his toes, which were curling against his will.

And then Atsumu switched to a pattern that had sent hard and short vibrations through him, and his body utterly betrayed him, jerking around like a puppet, and Atsumu his puppeteer.

Damn him.

The word passed his lips without permission. “Please.”

“Please what?” Atsumu whispered.

He was beyond pride, beyond dignity. All he knew was that he wanted to experience the earth-shattering pleasure he knew was so close to his reach for the first time in his life. “Please let me come, Atsumu.”

Atsumu turned the vibrator off, and Kiyoomi sobbed.

“Shh, Omi,” Atsumu murmured. “Can I touch you?”

Kiyoomi spread his legs.

“Yes or no, Omi.”

“Yes,” he sniffled. “ _Please_.”

And then the vibrator was being tugged out of him, and another wave of pleasure washed over him as it slipped out. His aching cock twitched, and he whimpered. He felt bereft without his toy. “Atsumu.”

“The first time you come with me won’t be because of a toy, Omi-kun.”

And then something warm was prodding at his entrance. Fingers. _Big_ fingers. Atsumu pushed one, then two inside him, and the unfamiliar sensation had him moaning.

“Quiet,” Atsumu ordered in a low tone. “We don’t want them to wake.”

Before Kiyoomi could say another word, Atsumu was fucking him with his fingers and this — _this_ was better than any toy. Kiyoomi stared unseeingly into the night, all his attention at the very real, very human digits inside him, twisting and thrusting and curling unpredictably.

His back arched when Atsumu hit his prostate; his eyes rolled back to his head when another finger bullied its way in. This was the farthest his hole had ever stretched and he loved it. He wanted more. He wanted _everything_. He was a hungry little thing made of nerves and nothing else. His head was lolling, his legs were trembling, his mouth open in a silent scream as Atsumu tirelessly fingered him, hitting the spot with every thrust.

“Please,” he slurred out. He was seeing stars. “Please, please, please.”

Atsumu sped up the pace, and Kiyoomi was getting closer, closer — and then something pressed against his perineum...and vibrated.

His orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, drowning him and robbing him of breath. Whatever noises he made was swallowed by Atsumu’s lips as he surged in to kiss him — Kiyoomi couldn’t keep up with his movements, his own mouth slack, but he let Atsumu slide his tongue in as he panted and whimpered.

The next moments were blurry. He slumped against the window, head hitting the glass with a thunk as his vision darkened.

He must have passed out for a while, because when he blinked his eyes open, he was clean and tucked in his blankets. Confused, he turned his head to look at Atsumu, who was already looking back.

Ah, he didn’t dream all that, then. He blushed in embarrassment.

“Miya,” he began.

But Atsumu placed a finger to his lips and pointed at the front of the bus.

Right. He cast a quick glance around the bus and saw that everyone was still asleep. Thank god for that.

“This didn’t happen,” he tried again, in a lower voice this time.

Atsumu tilted his head at him. “So we’re done?”

Kiyoomi blinked at him.

Shrugging, Atsumu said, “I’m just saying, we have about five more hours on this ride...and I haven’t gotten off.”

Despite himself, Kiyoomi dropped his eyes to Atsumu’s crotch. His jeans were unbuttoned, probably to alleviate the pressure, and there was a tent in his boxers.

That was a pretty big tent.

Licking his lips, Kiyoomi said, “I guess there’s nothing else to do.”

“Right,” Atsumu agreed. “There’s a lot of leg space here. Big bus.”

And so there was. He found out just how wide the leg space when Atsumu squeezed himself between the seats, slipped under the blanket, and buried his tongue between Kiyoomi’s asscheeks and damn, wasn't that better than he’d ever imagined. Kiyoomi had to use both hands to muffle his moans, eyes restlessly moving around the bus, making sure nobody was stirring.

“Good?” Atsumu asked, wiping his mouth after Kiyoomi had come again from his tongue alone.

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi said, dazed.

He returned the favor by choking on Atsumu’s cock.

The rest of the ride home passed in a depraved frenzy. Kiyoomi slipped in and out of consciousness as Atsumu shoved the vibrator back in and had fun with the controls.

They settled with Kiyoomi resting on Atsumu’s chest, the blanket covering the both of them, as Kiyoomi shook and shuddered throughout the rest of the ride.

It was good planning on his part to bring extra batteries.

“I’ve never...with anyone,” he whispered in Atsumu’s ear at some point, clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Atsumu hissed back. “ _Fuck_. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why does it matter?” he asked defensively.

“Because I’d have made it better.”

“It was good,” he assured, twitching when Atsumu pressed on a button. Fuck, it was the _best_.

When they arrived back in Osaka, Atsumu kissed him and made him come a final time with a twist of his hand around his cock. Kiyoomi cleaned them up with the wet wipes he always had in hand, and sprayed their hands and the air around them with scented alcohol.

He tossed the blanket aside to let the space between them breathe.

But he didn’t remove the vibrator from inside him, hidden from sight by his sweatpants, now pulled up innocently.

Atsumu was smiling at him in bemusement. “What a boy scout.”

“Shut up, Miya.”

They were still about twenty minutes away from their sharehouse. The cold settled onto his skin and he started shivering.

“Come over here, why don’t you?” Atsumu invited.

Well, why not? After everything they’d done, cuddling was nothing.

He curled around Atsumu, closing his eyes when his strong arms wrapped around him. Nestling closer to Atsumu's warmth, he let himself be lulled to sleep.

\--

“Wake up, Omi-kun.”

Kiyoomi blinked his eyes, disoriented by the light in the bus, and the sounds of people moving around. He sat up quickly, wincing when he felt what was still in his ass.

Memories of what he’d done crashed onto him like a sack of bricks. Cheeks hot, he avoided looking at Atsumu. Instead, he watched their teammates stand and stretch, eyes bloodshot and hair mussed.

“I’m gonna go ahead,” Foster yawned, scratching his stomach. He looked beat. “Good game everyone. You get tomorrow off, but practice resumes after. Have a good night.”

When their coach was gone, the rest of them started grabbing their bags.

“The hell did we drink?” Inunaki croaked out.

“I think I’m gonna vomit,” Hinata said, swaying on his feet. He looked pale. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Don’t puke in here, get out,” Atsumu advised. “Like, seriously, Shouyou-kun.”

Hinata nodded. The movement seemed to make matters worse for him, because he covered his mouth with his hand and bolted out of the bus.

Bokuto was dragging himself out of his seat, staring at Atsumu in confusion. “Tsum-Tsum, when did you move?”

“Omi-kun here had a blanket,” Atsumu explained innocently. “I wanted to share.”

The blanket was nowhere near them anymore, but luckily, Bokuto seemed to be too out of it to wonder.

“Everyone, get out and go to sleep,” Meian groaned, shuffling towards the doors. “Let’s go.”

He and Atsumu waited until everyone had disembarked before stiffly getting up.

They walked into the house in silence. When they reached the hallway where they must part, they looked at each other then away.

Atsumu cleared his throat. “Well. Goodnight, Omi-Omi.”

“Night,” he muttered.

“You know where my room is.” Mischief bled into Atsumu’s voice.

Kiyoomi flushed. “Absolutely not. This is a bad idea.” He could excuse the bus incident as a lapse of judgment, but willingly stepping into Atsumu’s space and asking him for sex? No way.

“Is it? You can be as messy as you want there, you know.”

Arousal was curling at the pit of his stomach again at the suggestion. It scared Kiyoomi to realize how much he wanted that.

He didn’t know where he pulled enough shreds of his control to say, “No thanks.”

“Alright then,” Atsumu said easily. After a beat, he turned and walked away.

That was that, then. Feeling strangely empty, Kiyoomi fumbled with his keys as he tried to unlock his door.

He dropped them completely when his knees buckled and his hands seized as a vibration shook him deep from his body.

The remote.

The remote was still with Atsumu.

Atsumu’s amused voice reached him from the end of the hallway. “Ya know where to find me.” His door swung shut, but the lock didn’t click.

Resting a hand against the wall, Kiyoomi thought about his choices. One, he could go back to experimenting by himself and never mention the incident to Atsumu ever again. It would fade into a sea of memories, and they’d both forget about it the moment Atsumu picks up a new boyfriend.

Two, he could swallow his pride and walk the ten steps it took to get to Atsumu’s room, and experience that mind-blowing pleasure again. Over and over. And maybe get rid of that pesky virginity thing. Atsumu had a big cock and he seemed to know how to use it, surely he was worth a fuck.

Kiyoomi leaned down and picked up his keys. The vibrator had been turned off — it was silent, but very present. Taunting him.

Straightening, he looked at his door, then glanced down the hallway. Decisions, decisions.

There couldn’t possibly be any downside to this, right? They’d _both_ benefit from it.

Kiyoomi didn’t sleep in his room that night.

Or the following nights.

And if they couldn’t stop having sex with each other, well — neither of them were complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously they will be FWBs


End file.
